Two Dark Reigns (Three Dark Crowns #3)(40)

Bree turns, suddenly steely for a girl of so little substance.

“I am trying to figure out why you wanted to walk with me.”

“Perhaps I am tired of council strife.”

“Already? You have only just begun. Should we start to hope that your triplets come even sooner than Queen Camille’s?”

The dead queens jerk inside her. Snap her neck.

Katharine stiffens until they quiet. “Perhaps I am afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Of course. You must think me truly oblivious if you do not think I fear what this mist means. That it has killed my people. We are all, afraid.”

“We are.” Bree looks back out toward the priestess, Elizabeth. “I have been listening in the square. Word of this spreads across the island like a cry of alarm. It burns like a torch. But underneath that . . .”

“What?”

“They hope that it is nothing. That it will go away. They want to leave it to you and ignore it.”

Katharine laughs softly. “Well. You must not hate them for that. It is my job.” She leans against the sill. “It occurs to me, now that you are here, and . . . Elizabeth is here, that I have never had a friend like the friends my sisters had. I had Pietyr. I have Pietyr. But I do not think he counts in the same way.”

“That . . . ,” Bree says, and looks down. “Surely that cannot be true, Queen Katharine. There are so many Arrons . . . so many poisoners here in the capital.”

Katharine cocks her head. “No. I had Pietyr. I had Natalia.” Inside her veins, the dead queens tremble; they reach out as though to warm her blood with cold, dead fingers. And yes, she thinks, I have you.

“Queen Katharine!”

She and Bree turn. Three of her queensguard struggle with a man in a brown shirt at the end of the hall.

“What is this now?” Katharine sighs. She approaches and motions for the queensguard to ease before they cuff him on the back of head and render him unconscious. “What is happening?”

“He says he comes from Wolf Spring, my queen. He says he must speak with you.”

He looks up at her, breathing hard. Blood leaks down his chin and neck from his lower lip, likely split during the scuffle.

“You did not need to be so rough with him,” Bree snaps from just behind her. “He is only one man. And unarmed.”

“We take no chances with the safety of the Queen Crowned.”

Katharine steps closer. She leans down and cannot resist wiping the blood from his face with her fingers. The dead queens like it as they like nothing else. Blood from living veins. Pain from living bodies.

“I am here now,” Katharine says. “And you may speak to me.”

The man licks his lip and glares at her from under his brows. “I come from Wolf Spring. I fish there. Ten days ago, I was out on a run with my crew, running up the coast after striper. And the mist—” He stops and swallows. “It took one.”

“Took?”

“It came up out of nowhere and slid onto the deck. I’ve never seen anything like it. One minute she was there and the next she wasn’t, and the look in her eyes . . . I can’t forget it.”

Another disappearance. Another taken by the mist. And this time, as far away as Wolf Spring.

Behind Katharine, the rest of the council has drifted out into the hall, drawn by the voices.

“Someone else taken?” Renata Hargrove gasps. “But why? Why only a fisher? Was she searching for the other queens? Had she anything to do with the Milones?”

“And is there anyone who can corroborate the story?” asks Genevieve. “What would you have us do, fisher? Send ships to aid your search for one missing crew member? Who is to say he did not push her overboard and is now looking to hide behind the rumors of the mist?”

“I do not think it likely he would come all the way from Wolf Spring to do that.” Rho’s white robes swing into view. “It’d be easy enough to explain as an accident at sea. Why come here, to the capital, and to a queen that Wolf Spring despises, unless it is true?”

“I wouldn’t have come if I had any other choice,” the man says angrily. “No one wanted me to.”

Katharine squeezes her eyes shut as they bicker, gathering close in their tiny factions. Old council separate from new. Poisoner separate from giftless. Giftless separate from elemental, and all removed from Luca, Rho, and the temple.

“Did you sail here?” Katharine asks loudly. The voices behind her quiet, and she opens her eyes. “Fisher, have you sailed all the way here from Wolf Spring?”

“Yes.”

“I would see your craft.”

Katharine’s stallion is saddled, and she rides for the port at Bardon Harbor. Pietyr accompanies her on one side. On the other is the man from Wolf Spring, who is called Maxwell Lane. Some others from the Black Council have come as well: Paola Vend, Antonin, Bree, and of course Rho Murtra to bear witness for the temple. The others, including Luca, remain at the Volroy to grumble and gossip, and Genevieve, determined to become Katharine’s eyes and ears, stays behind to listen.

“What good will this do?” Pietyr asks as they trot through the streets. “What do you think we will find?”

“I am not sure yet, Pietyr.” In truth, she does not expect the boat to provide any answers at all. But the port is gripped by fear and has been since the mist spat the search party onto the sand. The people need to see that their queen is still not afraid.